


Staring at the Sun

by jax (hippydeath)



Category: Constantine (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-08
Updated: 2009-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-28 19:55:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hippydeath/pseuds/jax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angela meets John's world without the world trying to end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Staring at the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Yuletide 2008.  
> Mercury crept in because I love her, and the fic needed something. She's of Hellblazer canon, and has been tweaked to fit into this universe. No kippers were harmed in the writing of this fic.

“There’s someone I want you to meet.” He said in passing on a Thursday afternoon when they were sat in a dingy diner, discussing an incident on the subway in the paper that Angie thought might have had some kind of demonic taint (it hadn’t, but John wasn’t above stringing her along for a bit) and she looked up at him from her coffee.  
“Oh?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.  
He just nodded, “I’ll pick you up at eight, wear something,” he made a gesture that implied cleavage, and left it at that.  
“Are you asking me on a date?” She asked and he snorted in reply.  
“There’s just someone I want you to meet,” he repeated, and then turned back to the papers that were spread in front of them. “And that,” he said pointing to a newspaper photo, “is not a demonic sigil.”  
“It was just a guess.” She insisted.  
“Look at it closer Angela, what do you see?”  
She did for a moment, then looked back up at him “Not demonic then.” She finally told him, and he nodded, swigging back the last of his coffee.  
“See you at eight.”  
“Hey, where’re we going?” She called after him, but he was out of the door before he heard her.

She ended up wearing the outfit that she’d worn when John had given her the spear to hide away; funny, she thought, how that, and not her near death had become such a defining date for her. Over that, a jacket, and shoes that she could run in (she wasn’t expecting trouble but she’d spent enough time around Constantine) and she was ready to meet whatever lunatic it was who John considered a friend.

John refused to answer any of her questions on the way there, directing the cab driver to a building not far from his own, and giving him a hefty tip. They stepped out into the night and Angie shivered at a gust of wind from nowhere, and just for a moment she thought she saw another building, out of place and time standing in front of her.  
She looked over at John, who either saw nothing, or had simply seen it so many times before that it didn’t matter to him. He took her arm in a strangely gentlemanly gesture, and led her through a grand door and down a flight of stairs.  
She could feel music pulsing, almost like a heartbeat, through the walls, into her, and they passed a small group of people who hurt her head when she tried to look at them, and then they were stood in front of a cordon, behind it a man who was every bit the stereotypical bouncer, holding a card.  
“Chicken on a ladder.” John said without being asked, and the cordon was lifted for him, but swiftly closed before Angie could get through, and another card was lifted.  
She raised an eyebrow at John who looked back expectantly, then looked at the card. “Bear in a dress.” She didn’t know how she knew, but she did, and the bouncer raised an eyebrow as he lifted the cordon, and John held his hand out to her, ushering her away quickly.  
“You could have warned me there’d be a test on the door,” she whispered harshly into his ear as they passed down a corridor.  
He shrugged and said nothing.  
Anything else that he said after that was lost as they went through a final set of doors and the music that had been pulsing in the background assaulted her ears, and the people, oh the people in front of her, they assaulted her eyes and her mind and she stumbled, despite John’s hold on her arm.  
He pulled her through the crowd, weaving his way through men and women who pressed up against the two of them, who seemed to have no idea of personal space and no dignity or restraint. Then they reached another door, heavy metal, vault like and imposing, and of course John just blustered through it, slamming it behind him and finally cutting out the music and the people so that Angie thought she could breathe again.  
One breath. Two.  
She hadn’t realised that she’d closed her eyes, but when she opened them it was light, the room opulent compared to the sparseness of the club beyond the door, and smelt of smoke and rich incense. John let go of her, acting detached, and she watched him swagger across the room and pull a seat away from the desk.  
“Midnite,” he said, speaking to the man behind the desk, “there’s someone you wanted to meet.”  
Papa Midnite, she knew that name from rumours and hearsay. He smiled and stood, extending a hand out to her. “Miss Dodson, a pleasure to finally meet you.”  
She took his hand gingerly, shaking it once and trying not to look at him too hard until he laughed, and she looked up to find he wasn’t like all the others outside, and she could look at him, just, without wanting to crawl inside herself. “And you, sir,” she replied, and took the seat next to John, looking over at him with a raised eyebrow.  
“Constantine?” Midnite said, loaded with questions that Angie couldn’t guess at but which John obviously understood, as he shrugged. “You have a reason to bring her here?”  
John shrugged again, and lit a cigarette. “Just thought she should see the world a bit, you know how it goes. She’s got her eyes open now, ought to know what it is she’ll be seeing from now on.”  
Midnite looked down at his desk, “You should have asked before you brought her here, it could be dangerous for her.”  
John shrugged and looked over at Angie. “You asked, and she can handle herself.”  
“Can she really?”  
“Yes, she can.” Angie interrupted. “I might not have the experience that John has, but I’m a police officer, and I can look after myself.”  
Midnite chuckled. “Alright John, have it your way.” Then the smile faded from his face as he turned his attention back to Angie. “Miss Dodson, a pleasure to meet you, but if you’d excuse us.”  
The door opened and the music insinuated itself under her skin again as she stood and smiled tightly at Midnite, something about him finally starting to unnerve her. Taking a deep breath the stepped back into the club and tried not to look at people for too long, seeing shadows and strange lights flickering all over, glimpses of things that a month ago she would have insisted didn’t exist.

The bar itself was quieter, and she found herself a spot to watch, ordered a coke and nodded when asked if she wanted to add it to Mr Constantine’s tab. Something red flickered behind the eyes of the woman serving her, something that whispered impossible promises and told of a thousand downfalls. She tried to smile and turned back to watch the people around her, beautiful men and women, all, she realised, tainted or blessed with some kind of unearthly touch. She kept her eyes away from a darkened corner where something was going on, which could have been sex or something much darker, because either way, she didn’t want to see. Instead she turned her head and noticed a young woman, not much more than a girl on the dance floor who, for whatever reason, didn’t make her head hurt, all multicoloured hair and ripped jumper and a skirt with more decency than most in this place. The way that she moved was mesmerising, and in the back of her mind, Angie knew she should be more careful, because she had no idea who the girl was or what she would or could do, but she didn’t hurt to look at, in more ways than one and…  
“Angela.” John’s voice snapped her out of her haze and she shook her head to clear it. She looked at John, and then back at the girl, who was waving at the two of them.  
“What? Who?” She stammered, pressing close to John as more people came to the bar.  
John sighed, “Another person you should probably meet,” he muttered, waving the girl over.  
Angie watched the way she moved as she sauntered over and stood on tip toe to press a kiss to John’s cheek, “Alright John. Angie.” She held out her hand to Angie, who was busy suppressing a weird flash of jealousy, and who took it after a second of hesitation.  
“I’m sorry, I,” Angie stammered, out of her depth.  
“Mercury,” the girl replied, shaking her hand and dropping it to toy with John’s shirt buttons. “Any friend of John’s and all that.”  
Angie nodded and watched the two of them, John acting with more ease than she’d ever seen in him, leaning in to listen to whatever it was the Mercury was saying, and only occasionally slapping her wandering hands away.  
Then it became very apparent that this was John’s world, not hers, and that whether she was welcome here or not, she wasn’t going to fit in. Absently, she left her drink on the bar and without a word to John, she threaded her way through the people, smacking away a couple of wandering hands and ignoring the bouncer as she left the building and finally felt her head clear as she stepped outside and started walking.

“Dodson!” She could hear feet pounding behind her, and heard John’s voice call after her, but she wanted, right now, to be away from Midnite’s and John, and she ignored him. “Angela.” He still caught up with her and grabbed her shoulder, which earned him and elbow to the solar plexus that had him doubled over gasping. “Angie. Stop.”  
She did, and turned back round, feeling that jealousy again, and waited for John to speak.  
“Sorry, Mercury’s,” he straightened up, “she’s an odd one. One I should’ve warned you about.”  
Angie shrugged and turned round and carried on walking, it only took John a couple of strides to catch up with her though, to take her arm and guide her back to his place. She didn’t remember the walk there, they didn’t speak, and she was only really aware of the heat of his hand on her arm, the heat where he pressed up against her as they walked.  
His apartment was far warmer than the air outside and she actually shivered at the difference as she stood against his kitchen table and watched as he threw his coat over a chair and pulled out two glasses and a bottle of whiskey.  
“John?” She asked, her voice shaking for reasons that she didn’t want to think about, that she couldn’t quite explain.  
He didn’t say anything, just shrugged and reached for her arm again. Looking back, she wouldn’t be able to say who started it, who reached fully for who, but from reaching for her arm, she was clinging to his shirt and she could taste the alcohol he’d obviously drunk with Midnite.  
He pushed, and she pushed back until his legs hit the table and he broke the kiss to swear as one of the glasses went crashing, the noise bringing both of them somewhat to their senses.  
“Angie, stop,” he said quietly, pushing her back, away from him.  
She looked up at him, “Why?”  
“Because this is a bad idea. A really bad idea.” She shrugged and kissed him again. “Really Angie,” he said, pulling away, “this is just Mercury fucking with us.”  
She didn’t stop, rather, she started pulling at his belt, but after a few seconds of hesitation, he grabbed her hands and hauled her away. “Angela Dodson.” He said sharply, gripping both wrists in one hand and holding her chin in the other so he could force her to look at his face. “This is someone screwing with you. Cut it out.”  
She shivered and shook her head and seemed to come back to herself, pulling out of his grip and leaning against the sink.  
“John? Shit.” She shook her head again. “I don’t know what happened.”  
John snorted. “Mercury, trying to cheer us up, no doubt.”  
Angie looked incredulous, “What?”  
“Alright, Mercury trying to cheer me up, I think it’s her life mission, that or to drive me mad.” He smirked and shrugged.  
Angie nodded and sat down. “I’m so sorry.”  
“Don’t worry, these things happen. And now, you’ll know to not let them happen again.”  
“Right. I should go home.”  
“Yeah, you need a cab?”  
She shook her head. “I’ll walk, I need to clear my head.”  
“Ok.” He headed to the door and she got up, “I’ll see you when you need telling that it’s not a demon again, then?”  
Angie smiled quickly and nodded. “Yeah. Thanks for tonight. I think.”  
“No worries.”  
They stood there for a while, John holding the door open and Angie looking down at her feet and then out the door. “I’m gonna,” she said, pointing down the hallway.  
“Yeah,” John said, nodding.

Then they were kissing again, only this time John was shutting the door and pulling Angie inside towards his bedroom as she tried to get her shoes off and undo his tie at the same time, until they smacked into a door frame and broke apart laughing.  
“I thought…” Angie started, breathless, but John shook his head.  
“Go with it.” He muttered as he opened the bedroom door and pulled her inside.  
If there’d been something more before hand, the instant that they crossed the threshold of the bedroom, it hit them like a force of nature, and whether it was Mercury’s mind games or the months of tension, neither of them gave it a thought as they pulled at each others clothes.  
Angie only paused when her naked thighs hit the bed and she toppled backwards.  
“Go with it,” John repeated, muttering into her neck, and then that was it, her hand was pulling on his cock, and then even that was more foreplay that either of them was interested in, and she wrapped her legs round his hips, drawing him in deeper and faster.  
It was over quickly, Angie dug her nails into his shoulders as she came, and John followed her after a few more thrusts, almost slipping off the bed as he did so. Angie hauled him up, but both of them were too sluggish to say anything, and they only just made it under the covers before John started to snore.

The need to piss and nicotine cravings dragged John out of bed the next morning, Angie stumbling to the kitchen in search of coffee.  
As the coffee brewed, John sucked down the first cigarette of the day and listened to the message that had appeared on his answering machine over night.  
“John,” Mercury’s voice was recognisable even on the bad recording, and John started swearing, “hope you’ve got all that out your system, ‘cause we need you.”


End file.
